


Striking Our Matches

by ironstrangepls



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, Eventual Sex, Falling In Love, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Accident Stephen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Iron Man 1, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-06-20 08:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironstrangepls/pseuds/ironstrangepls
Summary: His eyes were sapphires - bringing light into the dull atmosphere around him. They were as blue as a river racing towards the great ocean. They were calm yet full of emotion as they cut through Tony’s soul like an arrow, striking right through the heart.A story of finding love in the darkest of places between two men who both had lost their will.





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This work is more serious - talking about heavy topics such as suicide and depression. Please be warned, if that sort of stuff is triggering for you I suggest you turn away. 
> 
> I've been wanting to write something that ghosts me, in a way, so a lot of what you're going to see in this fic is based off of my emotions towards a bunch of things - and it's also for me to practice creative/descriptive writing.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this fic.
> 
> -Leaf

In the midst of the night, a hooded figure stealthily walked through the dimming spotlights of the streetlamps, avoiding the gaze of any roaming passerby walkers. Clouds loomed over the night, forming a thick fog that the lights from the lamps could barely penetrate. It wrapped around the figure like a cold blanket - it was a perfect shield for him to hide under. A harsh breeze brushed over the figure as he gripped his hood to prevent it from falling off. He grimaced as it cut through his skin as a cold breeze normally would. It was a chilly night in September, and midnight had fallen upon the city that never sleeps. 

 

Tony Stark strolled along a pathway most familiar to him, leading to a sidewalk that loomed over the river just below the city. He peered over the edge of the railing and stared, gripping it tight as his knuckles turned a sheer white. The fog was thick - the reflection of the water was almost nonexistent, almost like staring into an endless pit of grey and black. He clenched his teeth as stared up at the fallen sky. A single tear escaped from his right eye as he stared back down into the water. He exhaled in defeat as he turned around.

 

He couldn’t do it. Not tonight, not the past few nights, he couldn’t do it. He was too cowardly. 

 

Tony huffed as he sniffled and walked down the sidewalk to the faint glow of a sign - a bar that he would go to on nights such as this. He walked in and sat at the bar, muttering an order to the bartender, who handed him his drink. He drank it in a single swig before setting it down on the bar. The bartender, taking note of this, leaned forward.

 

“Rough night, huh?”

 

“Sweetheart, at the rate I’m going, it’s always a rough night.” The man replied dryly, putting his hands in his pockets and taking out a pack of cigarettes. The bartender scowled as she put a hand on the pack to pause his actions.

 

“Smoke outside, I don’t want you stinking up my bar.”

 

He put a cigarette between his teeth and got up from the stool, making his way to the back and opening the door to an alleyway. He propped the door open with a loose stone and leaned against the wall, pulling out his lighter from his sweatshirt pocket. He fumbled with the lighter a few times before realizing it was out of fluid, and in a huff he threw it across the alley way, muttering a few curses while the cigarette still laid between his teeth. All he wanted was a smoke - a desperate need for nicotine ached his bones.

 

“You need a light?” A voice called out in the midst of the thick fog. Another man appeared into the dim light of the streetlight and held out a shaky hand, holding a box of matches. “No lighter, but matches will do.”

 

“Sure, thanks.” The man in the hooded sweatshirt mumbled as he took the matches. He struck it once and eased his cigarette into the flame before shaking out the match and tossing it to the side. He handed the box of matches back to the taller figure.

 

“May I have one?”

 

“Hm?” 

 

“A smoke. Can I have one?”

 

“Oh,” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette, handing it to the other man. He shakily put it in his mouth, and he carefully opened the match box, struggling to do so. Tony, realizing that he was having trouble, took the matches and struck one for him, and the man leaned over the flame, puffing out smoke as Tony lit it. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

“What happened? To your hands, I mean, they seem a bit shaky.” Tony questioned the strange man, who leaned against the wall beside Tony, sliding down its brick exterior to sit. Tony imitated the man’s movements and sat next to him, both men puffing smoke out of their newly lit cigarettes. 

 

“Accident. About a year ago. Was speeding. Left my hands useless and myself dirt broke.” 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tony breathed out a cloud before turning to look at the man. “Who are you, if I may ask?”

 

“Name is Stephen Strange,” he muttered. “Been living on the streets ever since that accident.” Stephen reached a quivering hand to grasp the cigarette between his fingers and hold it, exhaling a rather large cloud of smoke. He sighed as he leaned his head against the wall. “I take it you’re one of the people of the night?”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“Means you’re a nighthawk. You dress the part, you walk the streets during the night, scoping bars and smoking in alleyways. Probably scouring for prostitutes too, though I know that’s not always the case.” The man replied in a raspy drawl, staring straight ahead.

 

The man in the hooded figure shrugged. “I do tend to walk the streets at night, though prostitutes are not what I walk out here to do.” Tony gruffed, holding the lit cigarette in his hand as he breathed out smoke carefully, watching it intently as it blended in with the sky around him. “But the bars are an added bonus.” 

 

“Well, what brings you here, then?”

 

“Here? A smoke. Bartender told me not to stink up her bar.” Tony responded with a curt tone. He blinked twice at the cigarette in his hand, wondering if it was worth trying to wash out the smell of his clothes - then remembering he had already been smoking for the last couple of minutes and sticking it back into his mouth, sucking in.

 

“I meant in the night. Why do you roam in the night?”

 

“Why do you speak as if you are a poet?” Tony wondered, a hint of tease dripping from his voice. Stephen stared blankly, his eyes casting a blank stare towards a cloud of nothingness.

 

“When you’re living on the streets, there’s only so much shit you can do.” A trembling hand made its way to his lips as he sucked in smoke from his cigarette. “Anyways, answer the question. Why are you out tonight?”

 

“Honestly? Was looking to end it.”

 

“Ah,” Stephen glanced upwards. “Typical.”

 

Tony blinked and narrowed his eyes, shifting half of his body to face the other man. “Typical?”

 

Stephen let out a faint smile. “It’s not uncommon, to get men like you - coming out to jump over that bridge over there and wind up chickening out. They see this bar in the dead of night and drown their sorrows here. Believe it or not, you’re not the first man I’ve seen in this alleyway smoking.”

 

Tony sighed as he leaned against the wall, puffing another depressing cloud of smoke. “I do come here a lot, in fact the past two weeks I’ve been out here.”

 

“Might I ask why you want to end it all?”

 

Tony turned to face the other man. “I barely even know you.”

 

The man smiled weakly, his face just barely visible in the dull light. “Ah, Stark, but I know you.”

 

Tony clenched his fists as he furrowed his eyebrows. “How did you-“

 

“You’re a famous man, Tony.” Stephen breathed out more smoke into the atmosphere. “I used to watch your speeches whenever I could - I know that voice like the back of my hand. I even went to a party of yours, once.”

 

“You went to one of my parties?” Tony raised an eyebrow - the man was homeless and broke - not the kind of guest that’s usually present at galas. 

 

Stephen chuckled as he nodded. “Before my accident, I was one of the top neurosurgeons of the world.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

“Don’t be, it was my own damn fault.” Stephen admitted weakly. He stood up and stretched, and Tony studied the man before him. 

 

He wore a run down sweatshirt and jeans - his hair was in disarray, jet black with grey stripes around the sides, truly unique. His beard was scraggly due to being homeless, and Tony guessed that his hands would have prevented him from being able to shave his face otherwise. 

 

“Do you care to tell me why, now?” A voice interrupted his thoughts. Tony stared at the man who returned it, peering over the still sitting man. With a sigh, Tony crushed his cigarette against the concrete. 

 

“I only am living this life because of my father. A man who only told me that I was his greatest ‘creation.’ I’m thankful for the wealth that I have but I’d be a lying son of a bitch if I said I enjoyed it. The attention, the press, the constant scrutinizing, it’s all part of this game against me. I was cursed with this - and I don’t want it anymore. Every night I sneak out, hoping that it might be the night I finally jump, but I end up wasting another night drinking and smoking - like you said most guys do.”

 

Stephen blinked at the hooded man as he sat back down next to him, crushing his own cigarette. “I understand that - I often think about jumping too.”

 

“I feel like you have a more justifiable reason, though.” Tony grumbled, realizing his own words sounded a bit rude. “I, uh, I mean, people wouldn’t wonder why the hell you would kill yourself if you’re living the ‘best life.’”

 

“See, that’s the difference between your problem and mine,” Stephen chuckled slightly. “I don’t have people worrying.”

 

Tony blinked slowly at the other man. “No one?”

 

“If people cared, do you think I’d be homeless?”

 

Tony shook his head slowly, thinking of his words carefully. “But you worked in a prestige area I assume? Surely you made friends with  _ someone,  _ did you not?”

 

The man stared blankly ahead. “My personality was, dare I say, not the most caring. I was cold, bitter to everyone, even to patients I was nitpicky.” He exhaled, darting his eyes towards the billionaire. “Guess you could say Karma was out for me. I got what I deserved.”

 

“So now I ask of you, why haven’t you, you know, jumped?” Tony cautiously asked, studying the man for any expression changes.

 

“I ask myself that every day. Maybe I’m hoping for a change. Maybe something good will happen. I don’t know.” Stephen coldly answered, huffing as he leaned his head back against the worn down bricks. “Maybe I’m afraid.”

 

“I can understand that.” Tony butted in, feeling the sudden urge to have another cigarette. He rarely had two at a time - but somehow this seemed like a special occasion. His secretary, Pepper Potts, knew of his sneaking out and she knew of his smoking habits. She denounced them, telling him that someone will see and it would cause a huge downward spiral in the business. When he first started out, something like that used to cause the hair on his arms to stand in fear, but the threat of Stark Industries dying out was no longer causing a big effect on the billionaire. It seemed comforting - as did the idea of death.

 

He took Stephen’s matches and lit himself a second cigarette, breathing in it’s smokey drug and feeling a calmness radiate through his body - an unhealthy addiction, he knew. But Tony could not care anymore - and as he exhaled and felt the smoke leave his lungs, his shoulders relaxed into the wall.

 

“You began smoking and drinking as a coping mechanism, I presume?” The former neurosurgeon spoke up, and Tony nodded slowly.

 

“Not something I’m proud of, but I can’t bring myself to care.” He paused for a few moments, before turning to face Stephen. “Do you know of my secretary, Pepper Potts?”

 

“I believe I have heard her speak before, yes.”

 

“She knows about all of this,” Tony sighed, taking another puff of his cigarette. “My night adventures, my bars, and my smoking. She doesn’t know why I’m out here, but she knows that I am. I worry her, I know I do.”

 

“I assume if a lot of people did know, they would worry as well,” Stephen added. “You’re quite the inspiration.”

 

Tony snorted, his eyes darting away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Inspiration? No, I’m just a shit guy who creates weapons of mass destruction, taking over his daddy’s business. Real inspiring.”

 

“You inspired me many years ago, if I was going to be honest.”

 

“That’s bullshit.” Tony snarked, his eyes depicting doubt and slight annoyance. “Don’t lie just to make me feel better.”

 

“I don’t even have the energy to make myself feel better, you think I would waste that on someone else?” Stephen returned the stare with equally powerful eyes. “I’m speaking with full honesty here. You were part of my aspirations and role models - I wanted to be as successful as you, and for a while, I was.”

 

Tony sat in silence, his eyes falling downwards towards the ground.

 

“My words might seem like utter shit because they’re coming from, well, me, but,” Stephen continued. “People  _ would _ be worried about you. That should feel...somewhat comforting...shouldn’t it?”

 

“I guess you could say so,” Tony huffed, his eyes remaining still as he stared at the ground, studying the smooth texture of the concrete. “Like I said before, it seems odd to me that I would feel this way about myself. I’ve got the dream, I’m living it, but I also despise it.”

 

“That’s not uncommon, many people that live the way you do feel that way.” Stephen exhaled, blinking slowly at Tony. “It’s why you see so many celebrities overdosing and committing suicide - they can’t handle the pressure and the scrutinization.”

 

Tony was silent, Stephen’s words sinking in - he was right - so many celebrities turned to drugs and suicide as an option - he really was not alone in his feelings. He sighed as he crushed his cigarette and threw it across the alleyway.

 

“I should probably get back to, you know, my home.” Tony stood up, turning around to face the homeless man, who also stood up. “Are you gonna say anything?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You, I told you a lot of stuff that you can easily tell, I don’t know, paparazzi or some bullshit,” Tony swallowed. “Do you plan on doing that?”

 

Stephen chuckled, slightly amused. “Two things, one, do you really believe some journalist is going to believe some street rat like me saying something about someone like you?”

 

Tony shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

 

“Two, out of everyone I’ve ever seen out here, you have been the only person to actually engage in conversation with me. And, you know, give me a smoke.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you meet many people who come out here to smoke.”

 

“I do, and I usually ask for a drag, and they react in either two ways. They ignore me, or they grimace in disgust and throw a cigarette at me and then ignore me, which is about the same as the first because my goddamn hands can’t even light a match to light it,” Stephen continued, huffing. “You have been the only person to strike a match for me, and that’s a gesture I take rather kindly.”

 

“Hmm.” Tony smiled ever so slightly as he studied the man in front of him. It was difficult to see in the dimmed light of the fog, but for the first time their whole meeting, he could catch the color of the eyes in front of him. His eyes were sapphires - bringing light into the dull atmosphere around him. They were as blue as a river racing towards the great ocean. They were calm yet full of emotion as they cut through Tony’s soul like an arrow, striking right through the heart _.  _ He felt it race, pulsating as he stared into the beauty. His own eyes narrowed as he smiled. “Will I see you again?”

 

“Perhaps,” A smile appeared on the other’s face. “You might see me again.”

 

“You have a good night, Stephen, and here,” Tony held out his hand and slipped him a twenty. “Buy yourself a drink, or some food. Think of it as a thank you for being my therapist for the evening.”

 

Stephen stared at the money in his hand. His eyes glistened slightly. “Thank you.”

 

“No, thank you.” The hooded figure stuffed his hands back in his pockets. “Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight,” Stephen called out. The man turned his head once more, before walking back into the thick fog, disappearing into it.

  
  



	2. Soft Stares

Tony blinked himself awake, groaning in pain as an ache overtook his head. He grasped the sides of his head and gently rubbed his thumbs over the pressure points, trying his hardest to relieve some of the tension. He glanced at the time (early morning) and he let out another groan. Tony had a press conference to do - something he was not looking forward to.

 

It had been getting more difficult to get out of bed. Every morning he would lie in the same position for thirty minutes - debating on whether or not it was actually worth putting in the effort to get up and start the day. His thoughts were usually interrupted by an infuriated Pepper, shouting at him to “get his ass out of bed and run the damn company.”

 

Low and behold, as if on cue, a slightly furious Pepper waltzed into the room, crossing her arms as she glared down Tony, and he felt as if he was being stabbed by a bunch of needles - her glare was that sharp. He sighed as he sat up, holding his hands out in a surrendering position.

 

“Alright, I’m up. I’m up,” Tony huffed, moving his hands through his hair to smooth it out. 

 

The red-haired woman said nothing but continued to cross her arms. She walked forward and picked up a shirt off the floor, holding it with only her finger and thumb as if it was a grotesque piece of meat. “This reeks of smoke.”

 

“Oh, you smell that too?” Tony tried to play it off, and the look Pepper gave told him that she wasn’t playing any games. “Alright, yeah, I smoked last night.”

 

“Tony, why?”

 

“Because I wanted to?” Tony got up and stretched, feeling tension in his shoulders - he’d have to get a massage. Pepper scoffed and shook her head.

 

“Not a good enough reason, Tony, you know smoking is such a bad habit and it is just fucking disgusting.” Pepper grimaced, throwing the shirt back on the floor. “Please stop sneaking out. I swear you’re gonna get caught one of these days, and that’s another shit we gotta deal with.”

 

“Don’t forget, Pep, you work for me.” Tony walked towards the red-haired woman, who was dressed profoundly in an all-white outfit. “And you’re not my mother.”

 

“Sometimes, I feel like I have to be, to keep this company from being buried into the ground.” Pepper sighed as she placed her palm on her forehead.’

 

“You know, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” Tony whistled, instantly regretting the words out of his mouth as he saw Pepper’s expression darken. She furrowed her eyebrows.

 

“Excuse me? Did you just say what I think you said?” She barked, her face slowly beginning to turn a dark red.

 

“Pep, I-”

 

“You’ve worked so hard to keep this company alive after your parent’s accident, and you’re telling me that it wouldn’t be  _ such a bad thing?” _

 

“Pepper, I was joking! Relax!” Tony held his hands up, trying to calm her down. “Calm down!”

 

She huffed through her nose, creating a whistling sound. “Tony, I can’t fucking believe you would even joke about that. You’ve done so many great things, it’d be a huge waste to see it all go down the drain.” She sighed as her face returned to its natural, pale color. “You know I always root for you, even if I’m just your secretary.”

 

Tony’s expression softened as he placed a gentle palm on Pepper’s shoulder. “Pep, it’s alright. Thank you, for always rooting for me. It’s nice to hear that.”

 

The woman stared into Tony’s eyes with her piercing, blue gaze. “Tony, you know you can always talk to me, right? I’m your friend.”

 

Tony shifted slightly, his eyes casting downwards in a nervous state. “Yeah, I know, but I’m fine.”

 

“Smoking? Drinking? Tony, I don’t think you are.”

 

“What I do with my life is none of your business.” Tony turned around, gritting his teeth. “Look, I get it, it’s a bad habit, I’m famous, I’m a role model, blah, blah, blah, but I’m sick of that shit. Just let me do what I fucking want, Pep.”

 

Pepper stepped backwards, her eyes widened with shock at the sudden outburst from the billionaire. “Alright. Fine, do what you want, I can’t stop you.” She turned around and started walking towards the door. “Hopefully someone or something  _ can _ , because I worry for you. So much.” She sighed and glanced downwards. “I’ll see you later, Tony.” Pepper walked out of the room, and Tony collapsed on the bed, grunting as he put his hands over his face.

 

His mind felt as though it was on fire, with so many emotions running ablaze. It felt chaotic, and Tony felt his chest begin to tighten. He tried to take deep breaths but found that they were unable to get through his sense of panic. 

 

He knew he worried Pepper - he hated worrying people - but god dammit, he was  _ not fine _ . 

 

Tony sat up on the bed, debating on whether or not he should run after Pepper and tell her everything that was on his mind: his thoughts, feelings, and reasons. But he hesitated - could she really handle the stress? Being a secretary to a major company was one thing, but actually dealing with someone with a lot of mental issues? It could be strenuous on Pepper, and the last thing Tony wanted was for her to be more stressed than she already was.

 

He collapsed back down on the bed again, his body already aching for a smoke. Nothing he could do about that - he would have to wait until later, where the dark surrounded him and he was an unrecognizable face.

 

Tony’s mind drifted to the man he met the day before - Stephen. He was a kind dude, and surprisingly an easy guy to talk to. Tony knew it was out of the ordinary for him to spill his entire life story to anyone, let alone a man he just met - but he had a good vibe from the man. He hoped he would see him again later that night when he goes out for a drink. Or, in Tony’s case, a trip to the bridge to try and convince himself to jump, but falling through and sticking with a drink.

 

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice rang out once more.

 

“Yes, Pep?”

 

“You have a press conference soon. Please be ready.” Her voice reminded him of a mother. Tony noted that Pepper would probably make an excellent mother one day - if she found the right person, that is.

 

“Yeah, I know. Give me five minutes.” Tony grumbled, actually getting off the bed and walking towards his closet. He picked out a rather fashionable suit with a dazzling red tie. After putting it on and tying his tie, he walked into the bathroom to fix himself up. He brushed his teeth and gelled his hair.

 

He rarely had the energy to dress himself up anymore - he would only do it when it was absolutely necessary. Otherwise, Tony would prefer to lay in bed all day in his pajamas and sleep. Pepper always expressed her distaste whenever those days occurred, but there was nothing she could really do or say that would make him get out of bed, unless she stealthily schedules a meeting midday. 

 

“Tony!” Pepper called out again. “Hurry up!”

 

“I’m coming, Pep.” Tony reassured, taking one last look into the mirror before walking out of his room to head to the conference.

 

***

 

Tony sighed as he leaned over the railing, staring down at the unsettling movement of the water beneath him. Nope - not tonight. 

 

He laid his head down on the railing, feeling the chill of the metal on his forehead. He clenched his teeth. Why was he so afraid? 

 

“Just looking?” A voice gruffed behind him. Tony spun around, his heart racing as he was startled. He relaxed when he saw the disheveled appearance of Stephen, standing before him with a blank expression on his face. Tony couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

 

“Yeah, well...yeah. I guess.” Tony shrugged as he stared at the man opposite him. Stephen’s gaze cut through him, sending a slight chill down his spine. “I guess you’d assume I’d be here?”

 

“I was hoping to see you again, actually, so yes.” Stephen admitted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his matches. “Would you care for one?”

 

Tony’s face expressed amusement as he dug through his pockets to pull out his pack of cigarettes. “I think you’re only using me for my smokes.”

 

Stephen chuckled as he shook his head. “No, I actually enjoy conversing with you - the cigs are an added bonus.”

 

Tony smiled warmly as he gave a cigarette to Stephen and put one in his mouth. He graciously accepted the matches from Stephen and struck one, having Stephen hover over the flame and then quickly lighting his before shaking it out. Stephen puffed a few times while his cigarette was still in his mouth before taking it in his hand, sighing as smoke poured out of his lungs. Tony leaned against the railing, his elbow resting on the metal bar as he held his cigarette in his hand, feeling the tension release as he breathed out the smoke.

 

“Where do you sleep, Stephen?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrow in concern. Stephen shrugged as he took another drag.

 

“Anywhere, really,” Stephen informed. “Mainly that alleyway where we met.”

 

“What if it rains?”

 

“I usually just hideout underneath some oversized roofs on the side of buildings. Occasionally I scrape up enough money to head into the bar when it rains and I’m able to buy myself something.” Stephen told him, his blue eyes stale from describing his life.

 

“I feel bad for you.”

 

“Don’t pity me, Tony.” Stephen moved to the side of Tony and leaned against the railing as well. “I got what was coming for me.”

 

Tony turned his head to stare at Stephen. “Don’t you think you’ve suffered enough?”

 

Stephen sighed, breathing in his cigarette. “How do you really know when enough is enough? I certainly don’t.”

 

“Don’t get all philosophical on me, buddy.” The billionaire let out a light-hearted laugh, which caused a small smile to appear on the homeless man’s face. Tony puffed some smoke out of his cigarette. “I had to take a philosophy class in college, and I slept through it.”

 

“How could you sleep through philosophy?”

 

“How could you not? God, I’ve never heard of anything so  _ boring _ . My professor just droned on and on and on - ugh, it was enough to put me to sleep.” Tony shook his head, staring up at the sky. The fog was no longer present, and the stars were barely visible due to the light pollution from the city. The moon shined half full.

 

“Perhaps you just weren’t capable of understanding the material,” Stephen teased. “It is, after all, only for the most complex brains and intellectual minds.”

 

“Oh, you tease, you make it sound like you were so smart.”

 

“Top neurosurgeon in his class? And eventually in the world? I think I earned the title of being ‘so smart,’” Stephen retorted, a smug grin resting upon his face. 

 

“Not smart enough to drive the speed limit, I guess.” Tony muttered, regretting what he said the instant it came out of his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

 

To his bewilderment, Stephen laughed - hard. He was doubled over, and it was contagious - Tony found himself chuckling softly. He had never seen the man so- so-  _ exuberant _ . 

 

“Nice comeback, Tony. Took me by surprise.” Stephen choked out as he put his cigarette in his mouth. “You’ve got some wit.”

 

“Thank you.” Tony grinned, and he and Stephen locked eyes. Tony took the opportunity to study the gaze in front of him - more so than he already had. Stephen’s gaze wasn’t piercing at that moment - no, it was soft. “You know,” Tony puffed out some smoke. “You have intense eyes.”

 

“I get that a lot.”

 

“They’re gorgeous, I gotta admit.” Tony smirked as he continued to gaze. 

 

“I also get that a lot.” Stephen chuckled softly as he blinked. “But thank you, I appreciate the compliment.”

 

“Do you want a drink, Stephen?” Tony asked, getting off the railing and motioning towards the bright, neon light of the bar sign. “I’d be more than happy to buy you one.”

 

“That would be lovely, actually.” Stephen gazed at Tony, his eyes blinking slowly as he grinned. “You don’t have to, though.”

 

“I want to.” Tony began to walk, with Stephen following him. “We both deserve a drink.”

 

“You’re too kind, honestly.” The homeless man muttered, tossing his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. The billionaire copied his actions, also tossing his cigarette away.

 

“I just want us to have a night where we can forget about these things in life.” Tony opened the door to the bar. “You know, let’s just have a good time.”

 

Stephen beamed slightly, his eyes lighting up as he entered the bar. He turned his head towards Tony. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the marvelous support so far<3


	3. Good of the Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed the rating from Mature to Explicit - in future chapters there will be sexual content that is sort of relevant to the plot.

“Afghanistan?” Tony’s eyes narrowed with a hint of exasperation, leaning forward on the table and staring down the men and women who surrounded the table in pristine business clothes. “You want me to go to Afghanistan?”

 

“It is for the good of the company, Tony.” Obadiah spoke up, his voice much calmer than Tony’s. “A weapons expo.”

 

“And  _ I  _ have to be the one to go to it? Why can’t  _ you _ go?” Tony gritted his teeth and slumped back into his chair. “I mean, it seems like you have it all figured out, can’t see why I have to be the one to go to some desert in the middle of fuckin’ no where.”

 

“Tony.” Pepper shot him a sten glare, her voice scolding him. “You’re the CEO. They’re expecting you.”

 

“Well, can they un-expect me?” Tony’s voice had a hint of annoyance as well as snark. “It’s just something I don’t want to do.”

 

“Present the weapons, we get the money, you get even richer.” Obadiah explained, tapping his fingers onto the desk. “That’s the Stark Industry way.”

 

“Fuck that,” Tony muttered under his breath so it was barely audible. He took a deep breath and returned to his normal speaking voice. “Look, Obie, I appreciate it and all, but is this really a necessity? And is it even a good idea? Afghanistan is a war-ridden country. Supplying them weapons might just be the dumbest thing we could do.”

 

“Or the smartest.” Obadiah leaned forward on his elbows. “Look, Tony, you have until tomorrow to decide. I won’t take an answer until then. Think it over. It would be incredibly beneficial for Stark Industries if you went through with this, and I mean,  _ incredible. _ ” He grinned, sending an eerie shiver down Tony’s spine- his grin radiated a certain creepiness that Tony was unable to figure out the reason behind.

 

“Fine. I’ll think about it, but don’t get any hopes up.” Tony stood up, gathering some papers and putting them into a black folder. “Anything else? We done here?”

 

Obadiah nodded, and Tony sighed in relief. 

 

“Tony, I do want to talk to you about one more thing, just in private.” Obadiah spoke, and Tony raised an eyebrow. The men and the women around the room took the hint and began leaving the room as Obadiah walked towards the CEO. “Tony, I know you’re hesitant to go to the Expo, but-“

 

“Hold on there, Obie, don’t go tryna persuade me now, that’s what the meeting was all about.” Tony held a finger up, albeit somewhat rudely. Obadiah sucked in his breath, his patience was thinning.

 

“Just let me say one more thing.” He exhaled, and Tony rolled his eyes but nodded. “Your father would have taken this in a jiffy.”

 

Tony’s eyes narrowed and his face turned a hint of red. “In case you haven’t noticed, my name isn’t Howard Stark.”

 

“Yes, but your father ran this company and built it for what it is today. He only thinks about expanding business and extending our limits to what we can do. All I’m saying is, this expo is part of that. No, you aren’t your father, but you can be like him.”

 

Tony bared his teeth as he got closer to Obadiah. “Listen here, Obie, I don’t want to be like my father. I run this company my own way, and I make my own choices.” He spoke in a low growl. “You gave me until tomorrow to decide, so that is when you will get your answer.”

 

Obadiah’s expression remained unchanged, his dull eyes reflecting the anger back to Tony. “Tomorrow. Make the right choice.” His glare lingered as he walked past Tony and out of the room, leaving the man clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

 

Tony’s father was a successful man, and everyone looked up to him. Even Tony, at one point, before growing up to realize that his father was nothing but a huge sack of shit who only cared about one thing- his business. It filled him with fury whenever someone compared him to Howard, or told him that Howard would make this choice or that choice. 

 

Out of anger, Tony slammed his fist against the wall, biting his lip to suppress a shout of pain. He shook his hand, trying to alleviate it. 

 

The door opened and Pepper appeared, her face sporting a concerned look. “Tony…”

 

“Don’t, Pep. Not in the mood for anything else. Cancel everything.” Tony grabbed his jacket that was draped over the chair and flung it over his shoulder as he walked past her. “I’m done for today.”

 

“Tony, wait.”

 

He turned around, his body language shooting off impatient vibes. Pepper sighed and shook her head. “You need to start thinking clearly, here. Your mind is a jumbled mess, and your temper is far too short.”

 

“Start thinking clearly about  _ what? _ ”

 

“About your company, Tony. You’re making these rash decisions- it’s unlike you. A year ago, you would have been thrilled to go to Afghanistan.” Pepper walked towards Tony as she spoke in her gentle, soothing voice. “It’s like you’re avoiding everything about the company. It...it worries me.”

 

Tony’s expression shifted to a softer look. “Pepper, I- I just don’t know. I got a lot of things going on.”

 

“Right, and maybe you need to get away for awhile.”

 

“Afghanistan isn’t a vacation, Pep. It’s still a business trip.” Tony muttered, opening the door. “Still doin’ work.”

 

“But,” Pepper raced forward and closed the door. “It’d be all you. Just you. You’d be away from me, Obadiah, and the rest of the workers.”

 

Tony blinked slowly and sighed. “Pep, I just need to think about it, alright?”

 

“Don’t go out tonight, then.”

 

“That’s where I think best, though.” Tony pushed Pepper’s hand away and opened the door. “Hudson Bar. Right by the river. Perfect for thinking.” He flashed a smile and left, and he heard Pepper huff and mutter some curses under her breath, before chasing after him.

 

“Tony Stark, when will you stop destroying yourself?” Pepper growled in a faint whisper that was inaudible to the passerby employees.

 

“None of your damn business.” Tony retorted, not even glancing at Pepper’s way. Pepper narrowed her eyes and walked faster, trying to match the pace of Tony’s. 

 

“So, what, you’re just gonna go out tonight, drink, smoke, and  _ then _ make your decision? Doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

 

“Yeah, it is a good idea. Did you not hear what I said earlier? Best place to think.” Tony strolled down the hall and into an elevator, which was luckily empty. Pepper raced in beside him and pressed the  _ close door _ button as well as the top floor. 

 

“What do you even do? Do you even talk to people? I fucking hope not, your voice is one of the most recognizable voices in the nation.” Pepper’s mouth formed a tight line. “I cannot have people recognizing you.”

 

“Relax, Pepper, Jesus Christ.” Tony began to lie through his teeth. “No one recognized me. No one will. Not even the bartender knows who I am.”

 

He wasn’t sure, actually, if the bartender knew him or not. 

 

“So you’re telling me, you just sit at this bar, smoke, and do... _ nothing _ ?” Pepper asked, and the elevator dinged, signalling Tony to strut through.

 

“Yep. Really opens my mind, Pep. I’ll be able to think  _ real _ long and hard about this whole Afghanistan bullshit. Maybe I’ll actually go, you gotta give me a night.” Tony opened the door to his room, and Pepper followed, inviting herself in. Her eyes made a way to a sweatshirt on the floor, and she picked it up, grimacing.

 

“Yuck. I hate the smell of cigarettes.” She shook her head and gagged a bit, then reached into the pocket to pull out the pack of cigarettes. “You can go tonight, but I’m taking these.”

 

Tony narrowed his eyes and moved closer. “The fuck? Those are mine, Pep, give them back.”

 

“Smoking is a disgusting habit, Tony.”

 

“I don’t care. Give them back.”

 

“You can go drink, but not smoke, I’m sick of you smelling like cancer.”

 

“Give ‘em back, or you’re fired.” Tony threatened, his eyes darkening.

 

Pepper’s mouth parted slightly as she threw down the pack of cigarettes. “You always use that against me. Forgive me for just trying to help you!” She stormed out of the room.

 

“I don’t need anyone’s help!” Tony called after her before slamming the door. 

 

Tony let out a grunt before turning around and punching a wall, this time leaving a small indent. He rolled his eyes and collapsed onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. 

 

His brain felt heavy inside of his skull, struggling with the weight of the stress and the suicidal plague that infiltrated his mind. His thoughts, when he was alone, were always headed down a spiral, and after an argument, it spun faster, causing Tony’s mind to race through thoughts faster than a race horse. He despised fighting with friends, especially Pepper, and it pained him to see her worry.

 

_ Why would anyone waste their time worrying about someone like me? _

 

He felt his chest tighten as he struggled to breathe, gasping as he sat up and grabbed his chest. Sweat began to form as tiny beads on his face as he brawled with his lungs, trying to take deep breaths in order to calm himself. The anxiety was not uncommon, showing up more prominently as Tony’s mental state worsened. 

 

“Fuck,” Tony gasped, letting a tear escape as he dug his nails into his chest - the pain was becoming unbearable. “Breathe, dammit, breathe!”

 

Tony inhaled deeply and held his breath, before exhaling slowly, and repeated the exercise, discovering that it managed to calm his nerves down. The pain in his chest faded slowly, and he collapsed back onto the bed, taking short breaths as he panted. He wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead.

 

“This can’t keep happening.” Tony muttered to nobody. “Fuck, man.”

 

***

 

The hooded figure stood on the opposite side of the street where the river was, staring over the black pavement, wondering whether or not he should cross. The light above him kept flickering, creating a strobe light sensation that was almost enough to give Tony a headache. His eyes drifted towards the neon sign in the distance and then looked back towards the railing. Narrowing his dark gaze, he crossed the street and up to the railing, gripping it tightly so his knuckles turned white. He gritted his teeth as he stared down the water.

 

_ Shit. Why can’t I fucking do this? _

 

He huffed as he stuffed his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and headed towards the bright, neon sign. He turned left before the entrance into a familiar alleyway, where a figure sat, leaning against the old, brick wall of the bar.

 

“Good evening,” Tony called out as he walked towards the other man.

 

“Stark, I was waiting for you.” In the dim light, Tony thought he caught a glimpse of a smile from Stephen, as he stood up and met Tony in the middle. 

 

“Let me guess,” Tony teased. “You want me to light you a cig?”

 

“You know me so well,” Stephen smiled, his eyes glistening with amusement. “Yet, it’s only been three days.”

 

“Well, to be fair,” Tony took out his pack of cigarettes and handed one to Stephen. He put another in his mouth and took the matches that Stephen already had out. Striking it, he leaned over the flame, gave a few puffs, than lit Stephen’s before shaking it out. “We’ve pretty much told each other everything about our lives.”

 

“Well, not  _ everything _ .” Stephen informed, blinking slowly. “I’ve still got some secrets.” He smiled behind his cigarette.

 

“Care to share with the class?” Tony inhaled the nicotine as he slouched against the wall, sliding down onto his rear. 

 

“Nuh, uh, it ain’t gonna be that easy, getting these outta me.” Stephen taunted, his hair flying loosely all over the place in the gentle breeze. 

 

“No more cigs unless you tell me.”

 

“Blackmail, huh?” Stephen smiled, peering over into Tony’s eyes. “You’re a simple man.”

 

“I’m not so sure about that.” Tony whistled, leaning the back of his head against the wall as he glanced upwards towards the darkened sky. “I think to some people, I’m a little bit more than that- more like… a difficult man.”

 

“Difficult?”

 

“Yes. People expect things to be simple, and they give me simple tasks, but I always turn it into a more complicated thing - you know, like the drama queen I am.”

 

“I think I can understand - you always make things more difficult than they need to be.” Stephen clarified, nodding slightly as he took another puff. “Is that right?”

 

“Yeah - for example, today, I-” he paused, glancing over at Stephen, who raised an eyebrow. The trip to Afghanistan was supposed to be down low - and Tony debated in his mind about whether or not to tell him about it.

 

“Go on. Today...you…” Stephen made a motion with his trembling hand to signal Tony to keep going.

 

Tony took a deep breath.  _ Fuck it. _ “Today I was asked to go on some sort of business trip to Afghanistan. Selling my weapons or some shit. I don’t really want to go, but everyone’s like ‘it’s so much better for the company!’ Or whatever.”

 

“Why don’t you want to go?”

 

“Honestly? Lots of reasons. One, I don’t really want to spend a couple days in the scorching, hot sun in the desert. Two, I have no motivation to do anything anymore.” Tony took a puff of his cigarette and glanced down at it. “You know, except smoke and drink and all of  _ that _ good stuff.”

 

“But you said it’d be good for the company, would it not?”

 

“Oh, it would probably be the best thing for it.” Tony admitted, sighing. “I just - I don’t know if I should go.”

 

“I think you should.” Stephen replied, blowing out smoke into the breeze. His face remained forward. 

 

“A lot of people think I should.”

 

“Tony,” Stephen turned his head to stare into the other man’s eyes. “You’re depressed, suicidal, and a wreck. That’s why you have no motivation to do anything. You don’t have the care, the will, to actually put effort into anything anymore, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So, hear me out.” Stephen began, flashing a warm smile towards the billionaire. “That’s not gonna go away with the snap of your fingers, but there are things you can do to help you out. And I know you are the kind of guy who doesn’t want help from other people. So instead, help yourself out.” He took another puff and continued. “Distract yourself from the world around you with this business trip. It seems like a pretty big deal. And I know you’re probably thinking ‘why should I take advice from some streetrat,’ but remember, I used to be like you.”

 

Tony blinked and said nothing, the only sounds coming from his inhalation of his cigarette.

 

“I took business trips all the time, medical showcases and award seminars and all of that fun shit. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew that it would be better for me and for my career.” He stared at Tony, his expression soft and serious. “Don’t miss this opportunity because your brain is telling you to jump off a bridge.”

 

Tony sighed and nodded. “I guess you’re kind of right. I don’t know. I have to decide by tomorrow morning,” he glanced at his phone. “Well, today morning.”

 

Stephen chuckled softly, placing a hand on Tony’s hooded shoulder, and Tony felt his face grow warm. He glanced down, avoiding Stephen’s stare. 

 

“All I’m saying is,” he squeezed Tony’s shoulder slightly before removing his hand. “Do what’s best for you. I have thoughts on what is best for you, but ultimately it’s you who decides that.”

 

“I’d be gone for a couple of days.” Tony smiled beneath his hood as he stared at Stephen. “You sure you can last without me? Giving you smokes and lighting your matches?”

 

“No,” Stephen let out a small laugh, his eyes bright with amusement. “But, I’ll live. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again. And I’ll be awaiting your return.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony grinned. “I’ll go. I’ll go to Afghanistan, sell some shit, and come back richer, and then I can buy you more drinks.”

 

“What’s stopping you from doing that now?” The former neurosurgeon quipped, crushing his cigarette against the concrete. 

 

“Oh, good point. Come on, Stephanie.” The billionaire stood up and help out a hand for Stephen to grab. Stephen took it and Tony pulled him up. “You getting your usual tonight?” He asked Stephen as he opened the door to the bar.

 

Stephen walked through it and nodded, turning around to grab Tony’s wrist and drag him over to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	4. Afghanistan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood, explosions, violence
> 
> Hey guys! I finally decided to update/revive this story. I really do enjoy writing it and I'm gonna get back into the ironstrange binge, I promise.
> 
> Some more notes about this:  
> This is loosely based off of the MCU timeline, meaning that not everything is going to be accurate timeline wise or scene wise. I will take direct scenes and other times I'll make my own, all for the story. I plan this to go all the way up to Infinity War, where I will end the story.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Tony enjoyed the feeling of flying. He expressed interest in the way airplanes flew when he was younger - the workings of the beautiful machine intriguing him in such a way. He had never shown any fear of flying in an airplane.

 

Until that current moment.

 

Tony felt queasy - sick to his stomach. Something wasn’t right - was it something he ate? 

 

He stared out the window, taking a few deep breaths. He was in a private jet - which was grand. Private jets meant he didn’t have to deal with the general public. Private jets meant he had a private pilot that he could trust, who he carefully picked out. Private jets meant he could relax on a plane. 

 

That did not seem to be happening.

 

He could see the ocean below him, just a giant painting of blue. It was magnificent. It reminded him of Stephen’s eyes.

 

_ Stephen. _

 

Tony felt a twinge of guilt. Here Tony was, flying on a private jet to Afghanistan to make some big deal, while Stephen slept in an alleyway outside of a bar, probably cold and hungry. He should have just given Stephen a place to stay before he left, a place where he could find comfort.  Tony grimaced as he pressed his palm to his forehead, a headache rudely making an introduction. 

 

When he got back from his trip, he’ll be sure to get Stephen a nice apartment. Maybe a studio. 

 

Tony, if he was being honest, never understood the aspects of being homeless. He assumed it must suck, probably greatly. He remembered how he would walk the streets of New York with his father and see several people holding up signs and a can, asking for any spare change. He remembered that he would tug at his father’s sleeve and point, but all his father did was move him along.

 

 _“Ignore them, Tony, they’re nothin’ but useless beggars who refuse to work.”_ _Howard would say to him every time Tony wanted to give some change. “We worked hard for our money, they don’t deserve a single penny.”_

 

_ Tony would stare at the ground and would give glances back to the homeless person, who always seemed to be worn out, tired, and hungry. They didn’t  _ seem _ to be lazy people, just people who needed help. _

 

Stephen definitely was not useless, nor was he lazy. He had an accident and lost everything, and continues to survive on the bare minimum. He didn’t beg, didn’t ask, he just accepted what had come to him. He thought he deserved everything he got that was coming to him. Tony felt nothing but sorrow and remorse for the man.

 

God, he could really use a cigarette right about now.

・・・

・・・

 

Afghanistan was boiling hot, and Tony felt himself sweating through his clothes. He wore a suit, one of his favorites, for a sense of comfort in an unfamiliar country. He had to look presentable, as he had to convey a sense of confidence while testing the newly designed Stark Industries missile, the Jericho. The missile was absolutely brilliant when it came to weapons of mass destruction, and he knew it would seal the deal in place - there was no one like Stark Industries when it came to these kinds of technology.

 

Of course, he wished he was anywhere else  _ but _ Afghanistan right now.

 

Ignoring his aching need for a cigarette, he walked up in front of the group of men, where he would be presenting his weapon. Tony smiled, a bright, dazzling smile that he used to get his way most of the time.

 

“Is it better to be feared, or respected?” He began, his eyes trailing around the group of soldiers that stood there, listening intently. “And I say, is it too much to ask for both?”

 

A noise of agreement hummed through the crowd. Tony smirked as he continued.

 

“With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel, of Stark Industries Freedom line.  It is the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary repulsor technology.  _ They _ say the best weapon, is one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I  _ prefer _ , the weapon you only have to fire,  _ once. _ That’s how Dad did it, that’s how America did it...and, well, it’s worked out pretty well so far. Find an excuse to let one of these off the chain and I personally guarantee you the bad guys, won’t even wanna come out of their caves.”

 

Tony took a deep breath and signalled the test. His heart raced as the missile system began moving, a soft  _ whrring _ sound hummed as it got into place. 

 

The missile launched with a spectacular show, exploding in the fields behind him. He stood proud, and cracked one of his signature, Stark smiles. The crowd loved it - and Tony praised himself - he had always been good with his dazzling gleam.

 

・・・

・・・

 

The jeep stirred and bumped along the rocky road, and Tony could feel himself getting sick. At least there was a fan in the car to keep him company, gassing over him - he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get off to the attention.

 

He wondered how Stephen was doing. He wondered if it was raining back in New York, and if he managed to find some place to stay. He wondered if a group of ruthless assholes were harassing him.

 

Tony clenched his fist. _What the fuck. Why is he all I think about?_ _His eyes, the way he talks, and those poor, scarred hands. I wish I could fix them. I wish I could-_

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud explosion. The soldier told him to stay in the car, his voice serious and full of fear. The sound of the door slammed and several gunshots rang through Tony’s ears, and he could see the smattering of blood now sprayed against the window, where the soldier was originally standing.

 

_ Holy fuck. I gotta- I gotta get out of here. _

 

Tony opened the door and ducked, another explosion rearing behind him. His heart raced, his body sweating from the scorching heat and the fear of being attacked. He found a rock, perfect enough to duck under.

 

A familiar sound whistled by, and Tony’s eyes widened as he read the label of the missile only a few feet away from him.

 

_ Stark Industries. _

 

“Oh, fuck!” Tony scrambled to get to his feet, but it exploded, throwing Tony back.

 

He could feel the shrapnel in his chest, and he could feel the whiteness of his suit begin to stain with a dark red.

 

・・・

・・・

  
  


He awoke in a cave. Dark, terrified, alone. Something was on his chest. Something cold. Something... _ metal? _ Tony treaded lightly, unknown where he was and whether or not he was live.

 

“I implanted that in you so those shards won’t reach your heart,” a voice appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “And, well, kill you.”

 

Tony jolted upwards, glancing around until his eyes focused on a figure near him. They narrowed as he studied the man. Baldish, with glasses and a beard. “Who are you?” he spat out. “What have you done to me?”

 

“My name is Doctor Ho Yinsen.” The man replied dryly, not moving from his position. “Again, I simply implanted an electromagnetic device in your chest as to keep pieces of shrapnel from killing you. You were blown up and captured by the Ten Rings.”

 

“So...where the hell am I now?”

 

“Still captured by the Ten Rings, we’re just in this cave.” Yinsen stated, walking towards Tony. “We’re being enslaved to build weapons.”

 

“Ah, fun,” Tony could only mutter in response. “Wait - captured? I’ve been...captured?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Tony felt his eyes widen in sheer panic. Captured? Captured meant he had no communication with the outside world. Captured meant he could not go home and sleep in his bed. Captured meant he couldn’t be yelled at by Stane, or Pepper, or go and grab a smoke with Stephen.

 

_ Stephen. _

 

“Tony? Please breathe.”

 

“H-how can I?” Tony sputtered, a pain in his chest ached and he gritted his teeth. “I’m...how long? How long have I been here?”

 

“Couple of days.” Yinsen answered with a shrug.

 

_ Oh, god. _

 

“Tony. Listen, it’ll be alright. We’re gonna get out of here.”

 

“What makes you so sure?” Tony snapped, his palm resting against his forehead. “What makes you so sure that we’re gonna get out of this  _ alive? _ I’ve got shit to do, people to see, and here I am, in a cave, captured by a fucking terrorist organization, with the only thing keeping me alive is this fucking car battery!”

 

“I’m not sure.” The doctor replied, his voice calm and patient. “But you, you’re an excellent engineer. I have a sort of, well, plan in mind. One that can potentially get us out of here.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“How long will this plan of yours take?” Tony’s voice was quaking. “Rough estimate.”

 

“Could take a couple days or could take months. We need to keep it on the down low,” Yinsen shivered. “If they find us out, we’re dead on the spot. We have to tread carefully.”

 

Tony gulped as he gripped his hair, laying back down on the table. He suppressed a sob as he thought about the people he knew back at home who were running around, probably worried sick.

 

_ Pepper. Oh, Pepper, she’s probably frantic, trying everything she can to find me, to get a hold of me, of my god, Pepper. I’m so sorry. _

 

_ And Stephen. Shit - Stephen _ .

 

He was only supposed to be in Afghanistan for a weekend. Stephen probably had no idea Tony was locked up in some cave. He probably was waiting in the alleyway, hoping he would see the guy who smoked and drank with him. Probably was thinking that Tony abandoned him. 

 

_ God, no. Stephen. I’m here. I’m so sorry. _

 

A tear slipped down his face. This was not how he wanted to go out. Not like this.

 

・・・

・・・

 

It was cold, and Stephen felt a shiver course through his veins. The distant sounds of cars droning by provided an eerie comfort, as they always do. The alleyway outside the bar was empty. He sat there, holding the box of matches, and wishing he had the ability to light one.

 

Tony would be back tomorrow. He was only going to be gone for a weekend. 

 

Stephen smiled at the thought of Tony’s return, and thought back to their previous conversations. He only knew the guy for a couple of days, but somehow, it felt like an absolute lifetime. The man was intriguing as well as intellectual, and Stephen had always respected that about Tony. Sure, the personal he put on for the cameras was a bit extra and a little self-absorbed, but Stephen felt he understood the  _ real  _ Tony Stark, the one that would spill his life secrets at 3 AM in an alleyway behind the bar.

 

The bar door swung open, and two men stepped outside, laughing. Stephen rolled his eyes and remained hidden, he did  _ not _ want to deal with two drunk men and their horrid words.

 

“And I’m sayin’ to this guy, how the hell can you be havin’ all this sex lookin’ like a monkey with a disease? The man’s a fugly dude, I’ll tell ya. I don’t believe a word of his ‘hookin’ up wit’ all these model chics, ya know?” One of the men chuckled and shook his head.

 

“Hell nah, there ain’t know way he’s havin’ sex. Let alone a supermodel. Unless her name is Right Hand, then I guess there’s a chance he might be.” The other guy responded, and the two bursted out in another round of laughter. “Imma light a cig, you want one?”

 

“Is that even a question?”

 

“You said you was quittin’ last week!” The other man replied defensively. Stephen could see he was the shorter one of the two.

 

“Yea, well, that was last week. This is this week, give me a fuckin’ cig or I’ll knock ya.” The taller man half threatened, half joked.

 

Stephen rolled his eyes - he hated these types of drunks. The loud, obnoxious ones, who probably brag about how much sex they’re having, and with the previous conversation, he can already tell which types of drunks these men are.

 

The taller guy leaned forward with his cigarette while the shorter man held a lighter. He took a puff once before turning back to his friend. “Yo, did you hear about that Stark dude?”

 

Stephen’s head popped up.  _ Stark? _

 

“Yeah, bro, didn’t he like, get blown to smithereens or something?”

 

Stephen’s heart stopped and he found himself gripping something - probably a trash bag, it was dark and his entire mind was focused on the conversation.  _ Blown up? _

 

“We don’t know, man. No one knows if he’s even alive. He was comin’ back from some kinda a expo thing and terrorists attacked him.”

 

Stephen couldn’t control himself and he stood up. “ _ What? _ ”

 

The two men jumped back and took drunken, fighting stances. “Who the hell are you?” The shorter man asked, swaying a bit from side to side. He saw the outline of Stephen and relaxed. “Oh, it’s just an old rat. Sorry, we don’t have any spare change.”

 

Stephen didn’t flinch at the word. “I don’t care about spare change. Tell me more about Stark.”

 

The taller man leaned against the wall and took a puff. “Like I said. Nobody knows if he’s alive. His car was attacked, and nobody could find a body or anything, so there’s still a chance.” He eyed Stephen up and down. “Don’t see why you’d care though. Not like you know him.”

 

Stephen clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. “How would you know? You don’t know me.”

 

The shorter man busted out laughing. “Are you kidding? You’re a homeless guy on the streets!”

 

“And?”

 

“Stark wouldn’t give one shit about you. He never does. He’s a self-absorbed billionaire who likes to have sex and get rich. That’s all he is.” He turned to the taller man and smiled, taking another puff. “I say, good riddance.”

 

It took all of Stephen’s willpower to not attack the man. He’d be at a disadvantage, and he was too frail to take damage.

 

“You disgust me,” was all Stephen could spat, before turning around and walking out of the alley and across the street. He didn’t even bother to listen to the string of slurs that were slung his way.

 

The water moved gently, as it always had. Stephen felt himself gripping the railing.

 

_ Stark. Tony Stark. Attacked. Blown up. Could be dead. Could be alive. _

 

A tear fell down his face. His only friend in a while, and Stephen wasn’t sure if he would ever see that face again.

 

・・・

・・・

 

The drunken men were long gone after an hour or so, and Stephen sat in silence against the wall, a blank stare smattered on his face. His face was tear stained, and his need for a cigarette burned brighter in his chest. His thoughts kept tracing back, picturing Tony being blown up, scared, worried.

 

_ It was my fault. I told Tony to go. _

 

Stephen clenched his fist as another tear formed. He fucked up his only friendship.

 

_ Why did I have to convince him to leave? He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to leave.  _

 

Grunting in frustration, he took a rock and threw it at a wall, listening to harsh sound it made as it bounced off and hit the ground. He sniffled, and heard it softly echo in the night.

 

The door swung open, and Stephen lifted his head up. A woman in a sweatshirt walked out and leaned against the wall. She was sniffling, and Stephen could tell she was crying. He peered over at her, still hidden in the darkness, and was disappointed to discover that she was covering her face, shielding it from his view. 

 

“God, Tony,” she whispered. “God, why?” Her voice was soft and frail, and Stephen recognized it. 

 

_ Tony? _

 

This must be Pepper Potts. 

 

In a flash he got up and walked towards her. “Excuse me?”

 

She flung her arms down and stared. “What do you want? Who are you?” She hissed at him, and Stephen could see the stress on her face.

 

He held his hands up and backed away, showing a sign of submission. “My name is Stephen Strange. I’m a fri- I’m an acquaintance of Tony’s.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “You?”

 

“I-I,” Stephen found himself sputtering. “I-I know that it doesn’t seem like I would know Tony, but...he’s been coming out here and smoking-”

 

“Wait,” Pepper scowled. “He told me he wasn’t talking to anyone. He said no one knew who he was.”

 

Stephen’s eyes widened, and he found himself unable to think of a response.

 

Pepper snorted and shook her head. “I knew he came here to smoke.” She narrowed her eyes at the homeless man. “You really say you talked to him? Or are you yanking my chain, because I don’t know if you’ve heard, but-”

 

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Stephen walked so he was clearly seen in the visible light, showing off his tear stained face. “I’m, I’m so sorry.”

 

Pepper paused as she studied his face, and her expression changed into a more remorse one. “You really talked to him?”

 

“Every night. I kept him company.”

 

“I just- I just thought-” Pepper sniffled as a tear trailed down her face. “I just thought I’d come here, hoping that I would find him. I know it’s stupid I know it’s dumb. The bartender said everyone who smokes comes out here and I came out here hoping I would see him.”

 

Stephen wished he could wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but he was just a homeless man who barely knew this woman. He kept his distance. “I’m sorry. I heard the news and I just couldn’t believe it. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

 

“What did he talk to you about?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Stephen… right?” She asked, and Stephen nodded. “You said you talked to him, kept him company. He seemed to always look forward to that. But what did you talk about?”

 

“Life.” Stephen just shrugged. “He’s been so generous with me.”

 

“That’s the Tony I know. Always generous.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “They never found a body. I’m hoping that means he’s alive. God, I hope he is. I couldn’t,” she swallowed. “I couldn’t imagine a life without him.”

 

“I have faith.”

 

She stared up at him, and a soft smile appeared. “Can I buy you a drink? Please? I just, I’ll find some solace in that, knowing you talked with him.”

 

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

 

Pepper opened the door. “I hope you don’t think this is weird. I just, I miss him so much. And I didn’t know he had made a friend at this stupid bar.”

 

“It’s alright. I know I’m the last person you’d expect to know Tony.”

 

“That’s the thing,” she shook her head as she stepped inside. “Tony’s always full of surprises. I was quick to judge you, but Tony? Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s no wonder he formed a friendship with you.” She sniffed once. “He’s unpredictable. It's why I have faith. It’s why I know I’m going to see him again.”

 

Stephen returned the smile. “I think so, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no tony

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: @blissfulstark
> 
> Tumblr: ironstrangepls
> 
> Work is Beta'd by my friend Milo, whom you can find on twitter as @lesbianavastarr


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